


No Savior

by PolarGrizz47



Series: Angelic Savior [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Stolen Ghost, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 06:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15902565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarGrizz47/pseuds/PolarGrizz47
Summary: “Everyone likes you,” Cayde forced himself to say, their hands clenched together tightly, desperately. “You fucking loveable prick.”





	No Savior

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, I love the Reverse au trope, so this series will focus on Cayde-6 trying to get his lover's ghost back!! With added flashbacks from their time together, for all that sweet, sweet painful feels.

Panting and crawling with the disgusting sensation of excess sweat dripping down his suited skin, the Guardian threw himself over a cover, dragging a bad left leg behind him. “Romea, what’s the status on the comms?”

“Nothing,” His Ghost replied, sounding fearful. “You’re vitals are crazy, though.”

“When are they ever reasonably normal?” He laughed, coughing up a splatter of blood against his helmet. “Oh, damn, I just cleaned this.”

“Milo,” Romea warned, her voice wavering, “We’ve got to get to cover so I can heal you. I can’t keep up inside, you’re bleeding out too fast.”

“Righto, Doc, lemme just clear a way for you. But you better not come out until it's safe,” He swallowed down a mouthful of copper and poked his head out from behind his cover, lifting his gun quickly to blast an approaching scorn’s throat in. A spray of brilliant blue blood painted him as he leaped from his cover, his left leg on fire with the agonized sensations and he gritted his teeth. “Fucking -- Fuck!”

Several more scorn clawed at him, sinking their grubby hands into his white cloak and tearing the wing-shaped material. “Hey, paws off!” Milo snarled, climbing the rubble that had caused him to be in the mess in the first place. He dragged himself up with a gasp of pain when he had to push himself the rest of the way with his legs. “How many of these things are they?!”

“They just keep coming,” Romea stressed, her unease coiling through their bond. “We can do this.”

Once he got the high ground and looked at the sheer amount of enemies in front of him, Milo coughed out a rough laugh. “Alright, assholes, say _hello_ to the light!” He lunged from the height advantage, beginning to pull back a bow of pure void energy in midair.

“Look out!” His Ghost shouted moments before a scorn dropped down atop them from the left, sending Milo sprawling to the ground roughly. Milo cursed, tried to roll and only ended up getting the air knocked out of him. As he struggled to get to his feet, the scorn surrounded him.

He tried to protect himself, but a particularly rough kick smashed in his helmet, sending jagged edges into his cheek. A white-hot rage boiled over inside of him and Milo let the rage briefly fuel him. “Get away from me!” He howled, pushing them away with a pulse of pure light energy.

Then, he jumped into the air, ignoring the pain that tore through him, producing two void daggers of void energy. He vanished into thin air before he hit the ground, brandishing his blades skillfully.

Cayde and Ikora had taught him this, and it was brutally effective. He slashed through the horde of scorn easily, vanishing three separate times as he hacked and spun, dashing to and fro with a series of triumphant shouts. Scorn were cut effortlessly by the void blades, falling around him with dying shrieks.

Finally, the room was clear. Dozens of dead scorn lay at his feet, the scent of rot and ether was suffocating, but Milo steadied himself and let the leftover void temptations wash over him. He always felt like he was feeding some unknown beast, just barely avoiding losing a finger, but in exchange for such power - Milo would gladly lose a few appendages.

“Bet they… didn’t see _that…_ coming,” Milo managed, his legs buckling as he leaned against the wall, “But now - now I need Cayde or Petra because we c-cannot do that again.”

“You’re right,” A smug voice mocked from above them, to the right. Milo glanced up at the Barons and coughed, searching the darkness until his gaze landed on two fiery orange eyes. “You can’t.”

“Sov,” Milo growled, straightening his shoulders brazenly as the Barons jumped down to his level. They were huge, towering and misshapen, dragging weapons of many assortments. He swallowed, breathing out evenly, slowly as he took a step forward, his hand squeezing around his hand cannon.

“That’s a nice gun,” Uldren mocked, stepping closer until he motioned towards a large creature, letting the flame alight along a large weapon that the Baron drug behind it. “What is it called?”

“ _Angelic Savoir,_ ” Milo shrugged, “Don’t w-worry, your soul certainly won’t be saved.”

“Mhm… and yours won’t either,” Sov grinned as the Baron’s fiery weapon spun around.

-:-

Sundancer’s voice was quiet, faded as Cayde struggled to get his eyes open. “Oof… that was one heck of a fall…”

“Milo and Romea aren’t with us,” Sundancer repeated, with an urgency. “We fell off at a higher level - they’re down lower - closer.”

“Shit!” Cayde pushed the debris off him, shaking out the dust in his strides as he jumped off the debris onto a catwalk. “Hang on you two, the hero is in route!”

-:-

Several broken bones later, Milo lay on his back, covered in dust and small pebbles from the wall. The Barons stepped in after him, not paying him any mind as they made their way to the lift. He gasped in bloody wheezes, shaking with exertion as he pushed himself up on his elbows, glaring at them from behind his broken helmet. “I-Is that all you a-assholes got?” His hand itched for his weapon, but he’d dropped it when he’d been pulverized into the wall.

Romea, despite Milo’s earlier warnings, phased out of his body, hovering by his side. “Hang on, I’m going to fix this.” If she didn't act quickly, she would have to fully revive him, which would be riskier for the both of them, being so exposed.

Uldren watched them with a smile, waiting until Romea began the healing beam to step into the next room, his boot crunching the gravel underfoot. “Now, now, this _is_ a nice gun,” He noted, waving Milo’s hand cannon teasingly. “Weighted handle, recoil compensation, explosive rounds… And the wing detailing on the muzzle? Did you carve that yourself?”

“Gimme my damn g-gun back,” Milo coughed, slumping back against the ground with a desperate gasp as his lungs seized under the healing beam. It helped some, but he needed another, stronger wave.

“Hold on,” Romea soothed, her voice cracking with worry, “I’m here for you--”

A single gunshot rang out and the lower side of her shell exploded in a fiery hail of mini shrapnel. She fell to the ground, worryingly still, but not destroyed. Her purple eye blinked once before it faded, static washing over her features.

“Romea!” Milo reached for her, his hand trembling and covered in a mixture of his own red blood and the scorns’ blue blood. She was too far away, his fingertips barely brushing against her purple shell. “No… no…. Stay back!” The Guardian hissed when Uldren stepped closer, uncaring at the deep wounds that oozed red everywhere below him. If he could feel his legs, he would've torn Uldren apart right there. But he was too faint to even sit up fully, his heart aching with helplessness.

The Prince smiled sharply, toeing Romea away from Milo with his boot. “My aim has gotten rusty, it’s been too long.” He crouched down to Milo, the man still desperately trying to reach for his Ghost. “Let me look at you,” Uldren snapped, reaching his free hand out to grasp at the helmet.

Milo tried to turn his head away, but he’d lost too much blood and was still too broken to do much, even with the initial healing beam. He snarled wetly as the helmet was torn off his head, the broken metal digging into his cheek and cutting a fresh slice through his left cheekbone and eyebrow, narrowly avoiding his dark eye.

“Mhm… So, this is a Guardian now and days… pathetic,” Uldren taunted, standing back up once he was done examining Milo’s broken features. He only bent back down to pick up Romea, the Ghost silent and still in his grip, her purple eye still offline.

“Get your fucking hands offa her,” Milo growled, only pausing to gag as a fresh wash of blood crawled up his throat. He felt so pathetic like this, coughing up his own blood and ruining his armor.

“I think I’ll keep her. You never know when a Ghost might come in handy,” Sov remarked with a shrug. “Where, oh where is your knight in shining armor, huh?” He looked back towards the bodies of many Scorn and then towards the waiting Barons. “Guess it doesn’t matter… I’ve got a flight to catch, you see.”

He looked over the hand cannon once more before pointing it at Milo’s broken chest, “Send the Traveler my regards, won’t you?”

Milo glared at him with sweaty hair sticking to his forehead and fresh blood spilling down his cheek. Despite it all, he grinned with red-rimmed teeth.

“Any last words?” Sov asked, rolling Romea’s broken shell between his fingers.

“Yeah,” Milo spat blood at Uldren’s boot, “What’s it feel like to lose a kingdom?”

The Prince sighed, breathed in deeply through his nose and then smiled charmingly. “And I was going to make it so fast for you… but, now… this’ll hurt. A lot.”

“I like it rough,” Milo smirked as he stared down the barrel of his own gun.

-:-

Cayde skidded into the next area, gasping at the sight of a giant, chained ogre. It was glowing blue, runes etched onto it and onto the floor by its large feet.

“What in the sweet hell is this thing?” He growled, lifting his weapon. “I don’t have time for this!”

By the time the ogre was dead, Cayde had a sickly feeling inside of him. It only grew more and more as they descended deeper, coming upon a roomful of deceased scorn, leftover void energy staining the ground with familiar dagger slices.

It was easy to follow the bloodshed to the hole in the wall, the Hunter Vanguard leaping in just in time to see Milo reaching towards a closing door. Uldren Sov stood there with Romea in his hand and a smile on his lips, waving with _Angelic Savoir_ , still smoking from its final bullet.

“R-Romea -” Milo stressed, only stilling once the door closed and Cayde dropped to his side. The hunter coughed, moving his hand over his chest where red was rapidly spreading throughout his armor, the fabric underneath staining with crimson.

“No, no,” Cayde muttered, opening his palm up and letting Sundancer phase into view. His Ghost looked back and forth over Milo, able to note the horrific damages, but unable to heal him. Their light was not one in the same.

"I'm sorry... I-I can't," Sundancer whispered, looking at the two at them with worry.

“Hey,” Milo smiled at them, his voice rough with clogging lungs and agony. “You two are fashionably late, as … as usual, huh?” His tone held no malice, only a deep, profound exhaustion. Cayde grabbed at his hand, linking their fingers together with familiarity.

“Don’t you dare die on me, I need somebody who actually laughs at my jokes,” He rasped, struggling to keep the fear and sorrow from his voice.

They already knew it was over.

Milo smirked, trying his best to squeeze his lover's hand. For a moment, they sat in silence with Sundancer hovering between them, her eye downcast, staring at the bullet wound in Milo's chest.

“I… ‘m scared,” Milo managed, voice small with the realization that this was the end. Cayde looked at him with eye’s wide and understanding, but his voice choked out of him. It was everything he wished would never happen, losing Guardians wasn't uncommon - but losing lovers was something different, rawer. “T-Think the Traveler will like me?” He rasped, blinking a drop of blood out of his eye, the blood smearing against his features in stark comparison to his pale complexion. Cayde noted briefly that Milo had such beautiful freckles, smattering over his nose and cheeks, matching the flecks of gold in his tired eyes.

“Everyone likes you,” Cayde forced himself to say, their hands clenched together tightly, desperately. “You fucking loveable prick.”

Milo and Cayde shared a chuckle, weak and strained before a suffocating silence settled over them.

Finally, the Guardian coughed up a fresh red that painted his lips. “Cayde… Promise me…” Milo gasped, shuddering as darkness washed into his vision. His eyes fluttered, struggling to stay open. “Promise me… you’ll get Romea away from that - _that_ \--” He shivered and shook, lungs seizing for air as death’s cold hands sank into him. His light couldn’t save him from it, not now, not without his Ghost. Milo squeezed their hands together tightly, looking at Cayde with his final breath. “P-Promise --”

“I’ll rip the whole system apart to get her back,” Cayde swore, squeezing their hands closer together. He bent over and pressed his forehead to Milo’s, his voice choking with emotion, “I’ll get her back. And you - you just… _wait_ for me.”

Milo leaned closer, his breath hot and rancid with the smell of blood, unable to even nod as he was swept into an eternal sleep. His body relaxed some, fingers uncurling from Cayde’s grip as the Vanguard gasped in sorrow, head bowed over Milo’s motionless chest. His hands uselessly smoothed down Milo's bloodied body, fingers catching on broken armor, the purple glow of his complete uniform crackling once before it darkened completely. 

Sundancer floated between them, watching as Cayde rocked himself back and forth, holding tight to Milo's lifeless hand.

Petra froze as she ran in, skidding to a halt. “Oh… no… _no…_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for mistakes, I legit wrote this so damn fast after I completed the first mission. Such nice cutscenes... so many feels. 
> 
> This has plans for a happier ending than Forsaken. 
> 
> Hope you liked, I'd love to hear your thoughts! <3


End file.
